


Witch Hunt

by elitemassacre6



Category: Glee
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, F/F
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-08-29
Updated: 2015-08-31
Packaged: 2018-04-17 19:53:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 10,474
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4679255
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elitemassacre6/pseuds/elitemassacre6
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The first time Santana catches Rachel doing something strange while alone in a bathroom she becomes distracted and when Rachel explains it away, she thinks nothing of it, however, later, she catches her doing something far more difficult to explain away and isn't prepared for the truth of the who and what the girl who's become her friend truly is. She isn't prepared for who Rachel is, who her friends are, and more importantly, who she is.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Rachel's New Pets](https://archiveofourown.org/works/1218298) by [WeOffendedShadows](https://archiveofourown.org/users/WeOffendedShadows/pseuds/WeOffendedShadows). 



> So I literally just lay down in my bed and wrote this in around an hour. It feels pretty good to do that after spent the last year or more not only having trouble writing but having trouble being satisfied with the quality of what little I did write. So I hope you all enjoy this and I'd like to hear about it whether you do or not.
> 
> (also, this was inspired by me reading "Rachel's New Pet's" by WeOffendedShadows for like the tenth time, and I'm not sure how it works, ethically, for me to say that both here and in the "this work was inspired by" thing, so, I apologize if it's messed up for me to do this.)

The first time, she’d been suspicious sure, but only for the ten seconds it took for Rachel to start running her mouth. She’d walked into the bathroom in the arts hallway to find the diva wearing only a solid black skirt and heels, something that had started a few months ago. When asked, she’d mentioned something about her acting coach suggesting her wearing them to prepare for the stage. So, at this point, the Latina could admit that she was really gay, and seeing Rachel walking out of the handicapped stall, long, toned, legs on display and nothing covering her torso but a black lace bra was a surprise. She wasn’t sure her eyes left the diva’s body until she turned from where she’d hunched down over the sink in front of her where she’d been pressing what looked like a sticker or decal to the black three quarter tee.

“Shit, Berry. As much as I hate to admit it you’re hot as fuck.” She’d said, eyes still occasionally tracing over where the bottom of Rachel’s short skirt met her thighs. The diva jumped, obviously shocked to find herself all of a sudden no longer alone in the bathroom. She dramatically pressed her right hand over her chest, turning to face the Latina across the room.

“Oh, Santana, you surprised me. But...thank you, I suppose. I think that’s the first time you’ve ever complimented my appearance without it being followed or proceeded by an insult. Anyway, I don’t think I have to tell you that I find you devastatingly beautiful, I know you receive similar compliments frequently. Is there anything I can help you with? I was just applying this decal to my shirt. I found it online and ordered it, it’s a traditional hebrew symbol.” 

Through the entire diatribe, Santana, damn her, couldn’t keep her eyes off the body in front of her. Her finger’s twitched at her side, dying to touch but kept at bay by their owner. She looked back up from where her gaze had been locked onto the shorter girl’s breasts when she heard the compliment and the following statement about her receiving compliments. It was obvious Rachel had never been close enough to hear the type of ‘compliments’ she received from their fellow students and grown men alike. Regardless, hearing from anyone, even Rachel Berry of all people that she was beautiful felt amazing and she couldn’t really help the honest smile from curving her full lips.

“Thanks, Berry. I really just came to wash my hands. This dipshit called Q an frigid bitch and I obviously had to break his nose. Fucking greasy faced asshole.” She stalked over to the nearest sink, turning on the sink and slathering her hands in soap before she went to town scrubbing her hands and then even her wrists before she rinsed off and stuck her hands under the useless hand dryer when she saw there were no more paper towels in the dispenser.

“I apologize about the lack of paper towels. I was slushied on my way to my painting class and I hate to ruin my towels from home with the red, blue, or purple slushies. They never really come out. It took me a long time to learn that lesson.” Santana just shrugged, it was fine. Like, sure, she’d definitely be stuck with her hands under this dryer for the next five minutes or so, but she had nowhere else to be right now.

“S’cool. Got nothing else to do. Free period” As much as she tried to focus on ringing her hands together to help them drying, which it seemed would never happen, her eyes focused back on Berry as she ran her hand over the decal on her shirt one more time before she flipped it inside out, which looked like it was the right way, then slipped it over her head. Rolling her shoulders and humming when she was done.

“Why put the thing on your shirt if it’s on the inside, Rachel?” So, the name totally slipped by accident. She’d been so busy watching the diva’s ass as she bent over to grab her slushy kit bag from the ground that it just came out. That skirt was fucking sinful. There was definitely a peak of black lace from under before she stood back up.

“It’s a religious thing really. Not so much a fashion statement. I know you don’t like me, so I hesitate to ask this, but since you have nothing to do, would you like to accompany me to my painting class? It’s obviously almost the end of the school year, but I’ve already turned in my final exam assignment, but you could grab a canvas and draw or paint whatever you’d like. Ms. Wu won’t mind. She loves to see anyone expressing themselves through art. We could even find somewhere else in the school to paint if you’d like. For example, for my finals assignment, I painted from the stage in the auditorium.” 

Rachel said, actually taking the time to finish one sentence before she spit out the other. It made it not only easier to understand her, but easier to see that she really wasn’t that bad. Santana looked down at her hands, finally dry. She shrugged and then nodded, motioning for Rachel to lead the way. The diva smiled that huge face splitting grin of hers, leading the way out of the bathroom and down the hall to her classroom. A tall, young, elegant looking Asian woman was sitting at the lead chemistry class desk at the front of the room, swiping her finger across an iPad in her hand. She looked up when she heard the clicking of heels her eyes widening when she saw the two of them. She set her iPad down and crossed over, taking the shorter of them into her arms, squeezing before she let her go and pulled back.

“Rachel! Hey! Shit, I was worried about you, one of those assholes slushy you again? Or was it this bitch?” Eyebrow perpetually up, feeling far too much like her best friend, and confused as hell over the apparent relationship between the two women in front of her, Santana stepped forward, hands tucked into the back pockets of her jeans. She leaned against an out of place traditional school desk, shaking her head.

“For once this bitch isn’t guilty. I haven’t slushied or set a slushy on her in like six months. Besides, why the hell would I slushy her when she looks like this?” The admittedly sexy woman, who was apparently a teacher, let her arm slide around Rachel’s shoulder’s turning her dark eyes to peer into Santana’s. It felt...weird, like she was looking into her soul or some stupid shit like that.

“No, it wasn’t her. I didn’t even really get a good look at whoever it was, but it doesn’t matter, Olivia. It’s fine. I brought her because she has a free period and I know you wouldn’t mind if she painted or drew on one of our canvases. I’ve seen some of her doodles and such in class and she’s talented. What were you up to? Are we interrupting? Were you busy?” The woman, who Rachel had called both Ms. Wu and Olivia separately, shook her head, picking up her iPad to show to the other brunette, though Santana couldn’t see.

“Was just emailing your Dad about something. Oh, speaking of, have you spoken to Lucy Q lately? She gave me a portfolio she wanted me to go over yesterday when she turned in her exam and I haven’t had time to go look for her yet.” Rachel shook her head, jumping up onto the desk that the woman next to her had obviously grabbed from one of the science labs, her legs swinging under her.

“No, she hasn’t, but I just did. She said she was gonna go have lunch with Britt in the little quad between the Lit and Social Sciences wings.” Santana said, watching as the woman, Olivia Wu, apparently, grabbed a black folder off of her desk before patting Rachel on her head and waving at Santana herself before she dissapeared out of the classroom. The sometimes diva hopped down off of the desk and walked over to the far corner, grabbing two easels and two regular sized canvases before she brought them back to where Santana sat on the other desk.

“So, like, wanna tell me who the hell she is? More importantly, to you? And how does she know Q?” 

“She was a graduate student of my father’s. When her mother died, she came out to stay with us until she figured out what she wanted to do. It turned out that she wanted to teach, so my father’s and I recommended her for the position after Mr. Vanguard retired last year. She lives in the apartment above our garage. As for how she knows Quinn, she takes the photography class Olivia also teaches. Want to get started? We can set up here or where you’d like, though if we go any where else you’ll have to carry supplies.” Santana looked around the room and at the far wall with the huge graphitti style mural in the back that definitely hadn’t been there when Vanguard had been the teacher and nodded. She liked the room.

“Got charcoal here?” Rachel nodded, pointing to another wall with a shelves that spanned the entire length.

“Yes, there. Here then?”

“Yeah, here is cool.” Rachel nodded with an eager smile and set up their easels next to each other but around four or five feet apart, setting up her canvas and then Santana’s before she walked to the back of the room where the supply shelf was, Santana following in her wake. They gathered what they needed and then sat down on stools the Latina had grabbed, dissapearing into their work for the next two hours. It wasn’t her intention, but when Santana sat up straight, stretching her back and hanging her arms high in the air, she looked back down at what she’d been creating out of charcoal. It was Rachel as she was at the moment. Lower lip trapped between her teeth, thin brush up against her own canvas, head tilted just a little to the side with her long mahogany hair cascading over her shoulders. It was detailed and well shaded, and to be honest, Santana was ridiculously proud of it. Hell, despite the subject matter, it deserved to be hung up somewhere. 

The Latina looked down at her watch, realizing it was 2:45 and school had let out half an hour ago. She looked up to see that the teacher, Ms. Wu, or Olivia, whichever it was, was back, and sitting at her desk, talking to Quinn while Britt sat at the desk Santana herself hat been sitting on top of, drawing on a piece of paper.

“Hey, Q.” She said, getting up from her stool entirely before she walked around her easel and to the front of the art room, smiling down at Britt and her drawing of herself riding a lion. Quinn turned to look at her, smiling.

“Hi, S. What’s up? You were seriously in the zone back there? What were you working on?” She asked, dropping the portfolio they’d obviously been discussing. Santana leaned over the desk to get a peak inside, seeing a gorgeous picture of Brittany caught at the height of her arc on the swing in her favorite park.

“Oh, um, charcoal. I drew Rachel.” That trademark eyebrow rose against a currently golden brown right eye and Santana shrugged.

“Really.”

“Yeah. I don’t know, I sat there for like ten minutes trying to figure what I wanted to draw and I looked over to see how she was doing and I guess it kind of just drew itself. It’s really good actually, probably the best one I’ve done in a long time. Wanna see?”

“Hell yeah I do.” Was the answer from the woman she’d decided to just call Wu in her head. She made to turn and lead them back to easel when the all heard a gasp. Rachel had perhaps heard them and was standing behind Santana’s stool, hand over her mouth as she looked at the black and white rendition of her.

“Oh my god, Santana! This is amazing! I look so...I’m-” By this time four of them had made it back to stand next to her, everyone but Santana’s eyes wide.

“Beautiful, yeah.” Santana said.

“Lopez, I totally need you in my class next year. Seriously, you’re amazing. You did this in two hours?” Santana shrugged, nodding. Looking over at Rachel who seemed to be a bit misty eyed.

“Yeah. Whoa, Berry, no tears please. Ask Q, I crumble when girl’s cry. You look amazing, you should be happy.”

“Oh, no, I am! Thank you so so much, Santana. I really love it.” Suddenly, arms were around her waist and she gave in, wrapping her own arms around the shorter girl’s neck and rubbing her back before she pulled back.

“Then it’s yours.”

“Really?! But...you put so much work into it and...and-”

“It’s yours.” Quinn and Brittany both giggled as Rachel launched herself at Santana once more.

“Thank you, Santana. I truly appreciate it. But,in that case, here, you may have mine. I know it’s no where near as amazing as yours. You’re clearly the better artist between us, but I hope you like it. I usually use paints, obviously, but I went with pastels, I was inspired by your choice of charcoals.” She said, turning to grab her own canvas. Santana expected something similar to hers, a portrait of someone or a landscape or something. But instead what she saw was some kind of very seriously intricate geometrical shape inside of many others. It reminded her almost of fractals, but it wasn’t just that. There sometimes just long straight lines with small symbols tracking their progress from one side of the piece to the other. It was beautiful, and endlessly interesting, and honestly if she’d seen it in a store somewhere or online, she’d have had to have it.

“I really fucking dig this. What is this? I mean, these are fractals, and this part here almost reminds me of ley lines, but I don’t get the large circle and the smaller ones inside it with the symbol surrounded lines connecting them.” She said, looking even closer to try and understand what she was looking at. 

“When she stepped back from where Rachel was holding it still, the eyes of everyone else in the room were on her and she raised a brow.

“What?”

“You are very intelligent Santana Lopez.” Was all Wu said, arms crossed, right index finger tapping against her left bicep.

“Totally, you are, Sanny! Even I didn’t know what the lines are!” Brittany exclaimed, happy expression on her face and her drawing in her hand. Quinn just nodded next to her girlfriend, eyes flicking over towards Rachel every once and a while.

“It’s just something I’ve been working on. I have a few other rough sketches, but this is the first complete piece, really. I’d like you to have it.” Santana nodded, studying the canvas one more time before she glanced down at her watch. She was starving, she hadn’t had lunch.

“Cool. Anyway, I’m hungry as fuck. Anyone down for food? I want Falafel or something. Anyone up for Egyptian?”

“Well if you’d like, we all have plan’s for exactly that at my home tonight. My father makes falafel burgers and sweet potato fries. Interested?” Santana nodded, taking the canvas from Rachel and handing her the portrait in it’s place.

“Yeah, sure. Just let me head home, change, and grab something. If my mom knew I showed up to dinner at your crib empty handed she’d hand me my sweet ass. So what can I bring?”

“Oh, oh! Can you buy a tub of that pistachio ice cream from the place on main on you way to Rach’s house from home, San?” Brittany asked, already bouncing up and down on her toes in anticipation of ice cream for desert.

“Yeah, Britt, I’ll get you that. Any other requests?”

“No, thank you, that will do fine. Although, do you have any food allergies?” Rachel asked as they all left the classroom, Wu locking it up behind them. By the time they made it out the front door to the parking lot it was three thirty.

“Naw, I’m all good. I’ll be there in like an hour max. Ciao.” She said, sliding her gifted art into the back seat of her car before she hopped in. When she pulled off a moment later, the other four women were standing next to Quinn’s car still talking, Britt’s face uncharacteristically serious.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Santana and her mother, Maribel, go over the Rachel's for what is promised to be a fun, carefree dinner between friends. However, after Santana sings a song she wrote during the time that things between she and Britt got first complicated, then painful, then nonexistent, things become serious and emotional very quickly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so hi! Chapter 2. You'll find this chapter is lighter on the hints connected to the fantasy part of this story, but heavier on the emotion and focuses on the relationships between the characters. Oh, by the way the song Santana sings is "Moondust" by Jaymes Young, one of my favorite artists recently. You should check out his stripped down version of that song.

As Santana unlocked her front door and then picked up the detailed drawing Rachel had given her, taking it with her into her house, she turned towards the kitchen instead of heading straight up to her room, which had been her plan. She had expected an empty house, but she heard light music and the sound of someone moving things around in the refrigerator. When she turned turned right and walked into their kitchen, she found her Mother looking around in both the freezer and fridge looking dissatisfied with her choices. The woman looked up when she saw her coming, smiling at her.

“Hey, mija. What’s up? I can’t find anything I actually want to eat. I wanted a burger and fries, or maybe falafel or something. Not like I’d find either of those things in here. Oh, what’s that canvas? You draw something else?” Santana shook her head, slipping her backpack off her shoulders and onto one of the stools around the kitchen island.

“No, but, if you’re hungry you can come with me. Rachel Berry invited me to dinner with her, Q, Britt, and Wu. Apparently her dad’s making falafel burgers and sweet potato fries. Oh, and this, Rachel drew. She gave it to me, after I gave her the charcoal drawing I had of her. She really liked it, you should have seen it, actually. It was pretty good.” She said, reaching for the canvas she set against the cabinet, drawn on side in. When she lifted it up all the way to show her mother, the look on her face changed completely, her carefree countenance replaced by furrowed brows and pursed lips. She seemed to flick her eyes over everything in the drawing before she nodded and Santana put it back down.

“Did she tell you what it is?”

“Um, nope, just that it was something she’d been working on. I think Imma go hang it on that hook above my bed and get changed really quick. You coming with me for dinner? You know one of Rachel’s dads from the hospital, right?” Maribel nodded, reaching into her pocket for her phone before she swiped a few times, tapped a number, then put it to her ear.

“Yes, Santana, I do. Why don’t you go ahead, hang that up, and get ready. I’m just going to call him to let him know that he’ll have one extra guest.” Santana nodded, picked up the canvas again and walked past her mother towards the set of stairs on the other side of the kitchen. Halfway up, she heard her mother’s voice as she spoke to someone on the phone.

“Leroy!” She said, voice tight and not at all like her. Santana couldn’t remember specifically, but she could swear it was the other Berry dad, Hiram, that her Mami worked with. Whatever though, maybe she knew them both well. When she got to the top of the stairs she turned right, pushing open the door to her room. It was a bit messy, which wasn’t normal. She wasn’t uptight about it, but she did kind of really like things in order and where they belonged to a certain extent. Crossing over to her bed and pulling her shoes off, she hopped up, hanging the frame-less canvas on the wall. It looked really good against the black of her wall, something she’d only been able to convince her mother to let her do on one wall, the others all a dark midnight purple. She placed a hand onto the drawing, tracing the area were the fractals, ley lines, and expanding circles met. It felt strange, the canvas, almost warm. Thinking that she really didn’t have time to worry about it now, she hopped down and crossed to her bathroom, prepared to take a quick shower before she and her mother headed out.

-0-0-0-

Right before Santana hopped off of the last step of the other staircase in the house, the one that started further along the second floor and led to the living room, she found her mother leaning forward looking through what looked like an old book. One she closed and stepped up to put away before she even noticed her daughter.

“Come on, Santi, let’s go. I’ve been asked to remind you to get pistachio ice cream from the Jersey Cow on Main by Hiram who was asked by Brittany. I swear, that girl and ice cream. It’ll be you girls who have to deal with her when she’s bouncing off of the walls later tonight.” Her mother said, sliding her purse over her shoulder and motioning her head towards the door. Santana followed behind her, deciding to take her own car while her mother took hers, just in case they decided to leave at different times.

“See you there, Ma. Just gotta go grab Britt’s ice cream, shouldn’t be more than like five minutes after you.” Maribel nodded, waving before she got into her SUV and pulled out, Santana pulling out after her, driving the opposite way to exit their subdivision the other way, the quickest route to what served as downtown Lima and it’s main street

-

Twenty minutes later, she pulled up to the curb outside the Berry house, grabbing the ice cream and climbing out of her car, locking it behind her. She swung her keys around a finger, nodding her head to the Lykke Li song that’d been playing before she’d parked. She walked up the long driveway and knocked on the front door, huffing out a breath when the door open and Brittany threw herself into her arms.

“Britt, geez. Tryna kill me?” The blonde took the ice cream from her hands, grabbing the Latina’s free one to drag her inside.

“San brought the ice cream, guys!” Britt yelled, making everyone in the room turn and smile at her.

“I swear that is literally all you want me for, B. Am I secretly just your ice cream retriever?” The blonde turned around, eyes wide, jumping up and down after she’d set the tub of ice cream down on the island in the kitchen the other three girls were seated at.

“Oh, my god there are ice cream retrievers? Like golden retrievers who get you ice cream? Or golden retrievers made of ice cream?!” Santana just smiled, kissed her friend on her forehead and shook her head.

“No, B, sorry. I meant like, you want me to retrieve ice cream for you. Like how a golf caddy get’s the clubs for the players.” Brittany sat down next to her girlfriend, who rubbed her back, and pouted.

“Oh, well that’s less exciting, San.”

“Sorry. Oh, hey, I guess you two have met my mom already?” The older Latina was reaching into the fridge, coming back out with a bottle of juice.

“Yes, she’s lovely, Santana. I’m glad you asked her to come along as well. Here have a seat, would you like something to drink? We have the juice your mother just retrieved plus some apple juice as well, bottled water, and some sprite if you would prefer.” Rachel said, standing up in preparation for grabbing Santana a drink she guessed.

“I love apple juice, that’d be awesome, thanks, Rachel.” The other brunette nodded, walking over to the cabinets to grab a glass and then reaching into the fridge to grab said juice. Santana looked over to her right, where Olivia was just putting her phone away before looking up at Santana.

“Hey, Santana. Considered joining my class for next year yet?” Santana shrugged, but her mother appeared suddenly, placing a hand on her lower back.

“Oh, you should mija. You spend enough time up in that studio of yours drawing. And it’s Olivia, so that class would be the opposite of boring.”

“Yeah, sure, I’ll take your class next year. But I’m calling you Wu.”

“Just Wu? No Olivia, no Ms. Wu? I like you, Santana. Terms accepted.” Santana nodded, then thanked Rachel when she came back and took the seat between her and Wu while her mother dissapeared around a corner that led away from the kitchen.

“What terms, Liv?” Rachel asked as the Latina to her left sipped at the ridiculously delicious apple juice she’d been given. It was cider like almost.

“Santana has decided to join my class for senior year, as long as she get’s to call me Wu.”

“Oh, yes, she does prefer to address people by last names or nicknames.”

“You don’t have to remind me of the so called nicknames she addressed you by, Rachel. I’m well aware. I’ve been here, helping you realize they weren’t true, the entire time.” Olivia said, obviously still not over the whole Santana being a gigantic repressed bitch thing.

“Okay, look, let’s settle this shit now, alright. I fucking apologize for being the biggest pressed lemon bitch to ever walk the halls. Rachel, I’m sorry for what I said and did and the inevitable emotional and mental strain it put on you and your family or whatever. None of it has happened in a long time because it just didn’t feel right anymore and it won’t happen again. Alright, are we good? Rachel? Wu?” Both women just blinked at her, perhaps surprised at her dropping an F bomb among parents? Or perhaps it was something else.

“I’m sorry, S, did you just apologize for something?” Quinn asked, appearing to be serious about the question and not joking as the Latina had originally expected.

“Yeah, alright, I did. She deserved an apology.” Santana said, rolling her eyes at Quinn and grinning at Britt, who looked excited.

“Are you gonna be friends with Rach now, San?!” She asked, unable to keep her joy over the concept of that at bay. Not that she was ever able to.

“Yeah, Britt. I hope so. We’ll see though, ball’s not in my court.” 

“Can we not with the sports analogies? I had a professor in undergrad who always spoke in them. I swear it was annoying as hell. If someone had failed a test he was all ‘I’m sorry, champ, but you fumbled the ball’.” Wu said, her head in her hand as if the very idea of hearing any of that again gave her a headache.

“Yeah, no that sounds horrific, no more sports analogies from me.”

“I would love for us to be friends, Santana! I’m glad you finally succumbed to my undeniable charms.” The Latina just laughed, nodding. Her mother and Leroy, Rachel’s other father walked into the room a big bowl full of sweet potato fries in her mother’s hand and eight fried falafel patties on a plate in Leroy’s. Hiram finally crossed over the admittedly large kitchen, bringing with him a platter of the usual stuff that went on falafel sandwiches. Wu stood and motioned Santana, and subsequently everyone else, to follow her to the beautifully furnished dining room. The Latina sat down, and then Rachel next to her, at the side of the table that had their back’s facing the large window that looked out onto the expansive backyard and the pool in it.

“You guys have a seriously amazing crib here, Berrys. I like it.”

“Why thank you, Santana, I’m glad you like it. Leroy and I imagine ourselves amatuer interior designers.” Hiram Berry said, passing out food onto plates and then buns and such, the toppings on a rotating plate in the middle of the table.

“You probably could be, honestly. I know who to call when I get my own place.”

“You’re leaving me....?” Her mother asked, pouting, but obviously joking.

“Hell yes. In a year I’ll be up outta this piece. Taking NYU by storm.” Santana said, finally biting into her burger once she was happy with it’s construction. The squeal from Rachel was unexpected, and obviously directly in her ear since she was sitting right next to her. She shook her head of it’s ringing and looked over at the shorter girl, about to ask her what that was for when she was interrupted by her mother speaking

“Wait, what? Mija, when I asked you literally two months ago you said you didn’t know what you wanted to do. When did you decided on New York? On NYU?” She looked perhaps a little hurt and a lot surprised.

“Oh, I wasn’t keeping shit from you. I was looking up schools that I could work on my drawing and painting and stuff and sing and dance and there weren’t many that looked especially amazing or anything, but NYU looked great. They have their fine art department, plus obviously they have Tisch ,and it felt like a good decision.” 

Her mother nodded as if she understood, but the look in her eyes promised a conversation later, which she honestly didn’t mind as long as she wasn’t about to try to talk her out of it. She loved her Mami, she was all Santana had. But she wasn’t giving up on her recent dreams. Singing, dancing, plus being allowed the time to focus on her other arts was something she really wanted. Not to mention living in New York. When she was there with the club for Nationals it was amazing. It felt like a city she could call home, despite the fact that Finn ruined it with what amounted to sexual harassment of Rachel.

“Oh my god I’m so excited! You’ll be in New York, I’ll be in New York, and Britt will there too at Julliard, and Quinn at Columbia. None of us will be alone. It shall be amazing, I guarantee it.” Rachel said, nodding her head while everyone at the table with the exception of Santana who was too busy rubbing her ears smiled at Rachel as if her behavior was endearing. Which, if she wasn’t yelling right next to her, would be. God, but that girl was loud. And like, sure, that could be sexy as fuck in the right circumstances, but right now it was just painful on her eardrums.

“Maybe you should lower the volume just a tad, baby girl. I think you’ve permanently damaged Santana’s hearing. You know what that does to someone’s ability to sing on pitch.” Wu said, clearly baiting Rachel, with a sly smile on her face. And sure, maybe she was kidding, but it felt like it. Was that ringing? Were her ears ringing? Shit.

“Oh no, Santana. I forget that I often project my voice by accident. Are you okay? I didn’t meant to hurt your ears. Oh no, and you have such a wonderful voice.”

“Babs, I’m fine. We’re good. I can still sing.” She said, finishing off her ridiculously good falafel burger and finally digging into her fries, sans ketchup. Honestly she hated ketchup. As far as she was concerned, it’s only purpose was as a component of mac sauce or barbecue sauce.

“Are you sure? I’m so sorry, Santana.” The Latina nodded. Already having deciding to sing to the little star to prove it. Maybe something she’d been working on?

“Yeah. I’ll prove it.” She said, standing and pressing her hands right under her breasts.

“Okay. I never turn down the chance for music.”

“Yes, baby, we know that.” Leroy said gently.

“I’m building this house, on the moon, like a lost...astronaut. Looking at you, like a star, from a place, the world forgot. And there’s nothing that I can do, except bury my love for you. The brightness of the sun, will give me just enough, to bury my love, in the moon dust. I long to hear your voice, but still I make the choice, to bury my love, in he moon dust.” She finished quietly, her hands falling from her chest as she took her seat. Everyone around the table was looking at her, and she swallowed, taking a deep drink of her refilled apple juice before she raised her left eyebrow.

“What? Not a good song? I mean, I’m still working on it obviously, but the lyrics are important to me, so I can’t change those, and I’m still mixing and adding elements to the track, but-” She went to continue, hating the fact that just like Rachel, she tended to run on and ramble when she was nervous, especially concerning something that was as important to her as that song was. She was interrupted though by her mother, who reached across the table to take her hand, drawing her attention.

“Mija, you wrote that song?” Santana shrugged, looking down at her plate and pushing her fries around until she eventually just ate one.

“Um...yeah. I started it earlier this year after everything with Britt kind of fell apart. It just came out, but when we were turning in self written songs for the club, it felt too personal to share.” She said, unable to make herself meet the eyes of anyone at the table.

“You are completely amazing and that song was beautiful, Santana, don’t second guess you’re obviously huge amount of talent.” Rachel said, laying a hand on her arm and stroking her thumb over her bicep.

“Okay, so I was definitely wrong about you. You’re kind of amazing, Lopez.” The Latina looked up into dark, no longer critical eyes and smiled, biting into her lip.

“Um, yeah, thanks, Wu.” She looked over to meet Brittany’s ice blue eyes. The tallest blonde’s hand was gripping her girlfriend’s, and she couldn’t quite decipher the look in Quinn’s currently murky green eyes.

“San...” Brittany said, looking all of a sudden upset, where before she’d been happy and giggling. Santana felt horrible, as she always did when she hurt her. It was always worse when it was simply because of the nature of the horrible person she happened to be.

“No, Britt, it’s fine. You and Q. You’re happy. Really fucking happy, together. And that’s all I ever wanted for either of you. The fact that it couldn’t be me to make you happy makes sense, and is okay. I mean, I’m all kinds of screwed up, everyone at the table knows that. And I just, I wrote the song as a way to help me be less selfish about you. To help me let go of you, because you never belonged to me and you never should have, okay. I love you, Brittany, and I could never wish for someone better for you. Someone to think of you first and give you everything you deserved. So don’t feel bad. Not for me.” 

She somehow managed to get that all out before she was standing, taking her plate and glass with her into the kitchen, not looking back at the table full of people she’d somehow hurt, as she always did. She heard a chair move against the floor and a scramble of small feet as she reached the kitchen, dumping her fries and heading to the sink to rinse her dishes and place them in the dishwasher. As she stood again, Rachel, who had followed her stepped forward.

“Santana...you don’t have to go. I mean...no one in there is angry or upset with you, and I...I think it was good of you to speak honestly and finally get all of that off of your chest. I think it means good things for your relationship with both Brittany and Quinn. Who also isn’t angry with you. I think she just feels like she really hurt you and as much as you do, she hates to feel like she’s hurting people. You know bad her guilt gets and what it builds up to if it sits inside of her for too long.” Rachel said, stepping closer, and without warning, wrapping her arms around Santana who...god did she need it.

“I think I do need to go, actually. I’m feeling...shit, I don’t know, just kind of horrible about spitting that all out like I did. And kind of cornered emotionally and I don’t want to hurt anyone anymore. You know how I get more than any, Rae. I hurt you more than them.” Santana said, resting her head on Rachel’s shoulder as she sunk further into the hug. Comfort from someone other than her Mami felt so foreign these days that she cherished the fuck out of it. She finally stepped back after another two minutes or so, holding onto the shorter woman’s biceps gently as she looked down at her.

“But...I just want...I mean this is the first time I’ve really gotten to sit down and talk to you, get to know you, today. I’ve learned that you’re an even more exceptional artist than I thought in more ways than one, and that you write beautiful songs and apparently mix your own music and are an amazing hugger. And you’ve given me two nick names that aren’t derogatory and I want to know more about you. I want to be your friend, Santana.” Rachel said, wiping away the few solitary tears that had made it out past her eyes.

“Thank you, Rachel. I think you’re pretty freaking amazing too, but I’m hurt, Quinn’s hurt, I don’t want to fight with her. But it’s good you like the nicknames. You can call me one too, if you can think of one. And I’m glad you liked the song. It’s really important to me and I’ve been really afraid of ever showing it to anyone. Maybe tomorrow we can find some time to talk about art, draw, or paint something in Wu’s classroom. I have a free where fourth period should be, what about you?”

“I can’t decide between Tana, and Ana, but yes, I have fourth free tomorrow. Meet me at Olivia’s and maybe this time I’ll draw you or show you how to paint some of the stuff I was doing today, okay? Oh, and thank you for the portrait, my father’s loved it as well and asked me to thank you.”

“Either is good, though no one has ever called me Ana, so it’d be unique to you, Rachel. Alright, let me go say goodbye to your dad’s and then I’m gonna split.” She said, taking a deep breath and closing her eyes for a second before she let her hands from from Rachel’s arms and walked around her to reach the dining room, where it seemed everyone was talking. They stopped when she walked in, but given what had happened twenty minutes earlier, she thought nothing of it. She ran her eyes over everyone else’s, focusing on Quinn, who surprising didn’t look pissed at her, just hurt still. Which was worse.

“Leroy, Hiram, I want to apologize for interrupting such an awesome dinner with my drama. I’m on my way out, but I wanted to be polite for once and thank you for a really great night and even better food before I did. Thank you both for having me.” Santana said, getting it all out and breathing deeply again.

“Santana you didn’t ruin anything, your song was completely beautiful and we understand that music is sometimes a way to heal the heart when it’s breaking, so it’s alright. We loved having you here, you’re a wonderful young woman, and we would absolutely love to have you over again in the future. I’m sure Rachel would as well.” Hiram said. Hand wrapped up in his husbands who spoke next.

“My husband is obviously right. Everything is okay, Santana. Thank you for coming. It was very nice to meet you.” The taller man said, free hand holding his chin.

“Okay, thank you, I’m gone. It was cool meeting you Wu. Bye, Britt, Q.” She turned and left before they could say anything, escaping to the kitchen where Rachel was waiting patiently. The shorter brunette walked her to the door, hugging her once more before she left the house, breathing out as the heavy oak door shut behind her. She walked down the driveway and climbed in her car, resting her head against the steering wheel as the tears she’d been fighting finally filled her dark eyes and fell.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Santana wakes up early in the morning to find herself very seriously sick with no cause or reason in sight. Her mother stays home from work to take care of her. Later, after the last day of school has ended, Rachel comes over, and after talking with Santana, it is her who finds and fixes what was making Santana sick.

An hour after the catastrophe at the Berry house found Santana standing in the studio that took over the entirety of the third floor of her home, brows furrowed as she focused on the painting in front of her. Her first impulse had been to replicate the drawing Rachel had gifted her, but as she started, it evolved in front of her, becoming something else entirely. Instead of the circles increasing outwards in circumference, she found herself painting two large triangles laid over each other to create a six pointed star, small circles at their tips filled with dark flower like fractal patterns that she’d had to paint in with the smallest brushes she owned. 

What reminded her somehow of ley lines just like the ones on the drawing in her room created the outlines of the triangles. It surprised her that she’d been able to fill them with symbols, though she knew not what they were. As strange as it sounded in her head as she thought about it they kind painted themselves, coming out from the brush without her having any idea what she was creating. A large symbol, circular and almost like a coiled snake in appearance filled the middle of the six point star created of the triangles, painted deep green in color and menacing. As it came together she furrowed her eyebrows, confused about how the painting had managed to come out so dark and foreboding without her intending it. Hell, the thing looked like it belonged in some vampire’s lair in a movie or something. 

When she stepped back, feeling finished, she ran her eyes over it, it was primarily black and green, with large red symbols capping the ends of the triangle that didn’t end in complex fractal filled circles. She frowned. Maybe it said something about her that Rachel’s drawing had come off feeling light and uplifting while hers seemed to be on the opposite side of the spectrum. 

Confused over why it came out that way and also how she felt about it as the art that it was, she found an empty space to put it to dry out while she walked over to her cabinet, grabbing pastels and another canvas. She knew what she’d create now, something to help not only her, but her two best friends feel better about not only what had gone down today, but about their relationship as friends in general. Closing her eyes as she set the canvas up and got her supplies in place to make it easier to continue working without having to walk away to find something, Santana closed her eyes.

“She remembered back to before she had spilled her heart out on the dining room table at the Berrys. When everyone had been laughing, smiling, joking together. She recalled Britt and Quinn sitting across from her, chairs close together and holding hands, smiling over at each other every once and a while. She’d paint them together as they were before she ruined dinner. They deserved something from her, something more than the apology she’d given before she made the quickest escape possible while also being polite.

-

It had been hours, and she could see just by looking around at the lack of subtle light streaming through the blackout curtains she’d put up that it was late. The drawing in front of her wasn’t done, perhaps a third of the way there, and she wanted to take her time on it, make it clear that it wasn’t a rush job when they saw it. Besides, pastels were more difficult than charcoals. The correct shading and highlighting was important to get the skin tones and other aspects of the portraits right. But maybe if she started as soon as she got home from school tomorrow she’d have time to finish it. She ran a hand through her hair, scratching gently against her scalp. It always made her feel sleepy and if she wasn’t able to manage exactly that sometime in the next half hour she would be back up here working. She walked out of her studio, shutting and locking the door behind her.

-

 

In the morning when Santana woke up, she realized that she’d sweated so much that the area of her sheets around her was damp, and when she tried to sit up and figure out what time it was because her alarm hadn’t gone off yet, the lack of energy in her body and the sudden lack of strength in her arms had her fall back to the bed from the six inches or so she’d been able to lift herself. The effort had her coughing and wheezing a bit on her inhales. Her throat was sore, her head hurt, and her entire body felt like the day after her first ever cheerios practice.

How the hell did she get so sick overnight? She didn’t remember having any symptoms the last few days besides the occasional headache or sneeze caused by allergies or something. Instead of trying to get up and lay herself against her headboard, Santana moved to her right just a little until she could grab her phone, pressing the button until it came on, telling her it was only four thirty in the morning. So her mother should be up but not gone yet. Coughing in preparation for attempting to raise her voice, Santana moved to try and sit up against her pillows again, this time going little by little until she sat against her headboard, kicking her sheets and duvet off of her legs. 

“Mami!” She kind of screamed, devolving into rough, painful, coughs at the end. She raised her left hand weekly rubbing against her chest. Water would be nice, and she had a bottle, but it sat all the way on the other side of her right bedside table and she knew she couldn’t reach it. She heard someone running through the hall outside her room before her door was pushed open hard and her mother walked in, flicking the switch on the wall to be able to see what was wrong. Santana knew she probably looked really fucking horrible and probably flu-stricken or something. Not that that mattered right now.

“Mija! What happened? You were fine yesterday...” Her mother said, walking closer and taking a seat on the edge of the bed, bringing her hand up to press her fingers against Santana’s pulse and holding it there for exactly a minute before she pulled them away, her frown deepening. She dissapeared into Santana’s en-suite before she returned with a thermometer and a bottle of Tylenol, reaching over to grab the bottle of water Santana had just been thinking about before she came in.

She opened the water and tipped it’s contents into her daughters mouth, slipping the two Tylenol in as well before she poured more in then capped the water, setting next to Santana’s sweat coated left thigh. 

“Aah, baby. Open up.” Her mother said, and she did exactly that, patiently waiting as her mother pressed the thermometer on her tongue and inspected her throat then slipped it under her tongue, motioning for her to close her mouth. Santana did so, waiting impatiently. She hated thermometers. When it beeped, Maribel removed it and glanced down at the reading before shaking her head.

“Well, at the least it seems as if you won’t have to come to work with me. 99.9 is your temp, and what we’re going to do is get you into a cold shower to cool you down and turn the ac on, Okay? Do you know what happened? You didn’t seem sick yesterday, any symptoms?” The older Latina asked, taking the thermometer and slipping it back in it’s case before she set it on the bedside table. Santana went to speak, coughing again. Her mother reached behind her back, rubbing circles and patterns Santana didn’t recognize into the skin of her still sweating back as she coughed, handing her water and pulling back when she finally stopped. The younger Latina took the opened water bottle in her hand, able to tip it back into her mouth before she handed it back.

“No, Mami. Just a headache and sneezing ever once and a while from allergies. Nothing this bad. I just woke up like this. Can I have...do we have Gatorade?” Her mother nodded, brows furrowed over equally dark eyes before she stood, nodding at her request.

“Yes, baby, I’ll bring you some then we’ll get you in the shower. I should be back in a few minutes, Let me call Leroy to let him know I won’t be coming in today.”

“You don’t have to skip work for me, Ma.”  
“Baby girl you couldn’t even stand up and get yourself in the shower if I wasn’t here to help you. So yes, I do need to. Besides, my little girl is more important than work, alright. Those Tylenol should start to help with your fever and also some of those aches and pains by the time I get back upstairs.” Santana just nodded, she knew her mother was right. And as the woman turned to head down the stairs, pulling her phone from her pocket and dialing, Santana could barely hear the beginning of the conversation before she lost it.

“Hiram! No I can’t make it in today. No, not me, Santi, she’s sick. And all of the sudden. It doesn’t feel right, we all saw she was fine yesterday, someone-” Was all she heard, the last few words barely floating up to her as she licked her dry lips, reaching over to drink down the last of her water. She closed her eyes for a moment, and when she opened them, her mother was in front of her screwing off the top of a bottle of grape Gatorade before she sat back on the edge of the bed, helping Santana drink some down. When she was finished, her mother helped her removed the sweat soaked cheer shorts and tank top she had on then slid her arms below her knees and around her back, lifting her straight up from the bed. She squealed in surprise, holding on tighter to her mother.

“Calm down, Mija, I’ve got you. I’ve never dropped you before right?” She asked, laughing quietly as they reached the bathroom. She set her daughter down on the closed toilet seat before she turned towards the shower, opening the door and turning it on before she twisted the knob to the right just a bit. She stuck the arm under the flow as it cooled, satisfied with the temperature.

“Yeah, but I was like eight the last time you picked me up like that. I’m 17 now.” She said petulantly, pouting like the softie she was.

“Yes, but baby girl you’re still so small, it’s easy. You can’t weigh more that 115, maybe 120 at the most.” Santana’s pout got even deeper and she huffed as she mother helped her into the cold but not freezing water of the shower. It made her feel just a little better already, shedding that overwhelming heat that had taken over her body in her sleep.

“119, Mami.” Is all Santana said, leaning against the opposite shower wall and still fatigued despite feeling better. Her mother quickly washed her body and hair, massing her fingers into Santana’s scalp and making her sleepy. 

She must have zoned out of fallen asleep because the next thing she knew she was dressed in comfortable shorts and a t-shirt, lying in her bed. Her mother was almost at the door, on her way to leaving the room for something.

“Mama?” She asked, not wanted to be alone despite the fact that she was probably about two minutes from falling asleep. Her mother turned back around, sat on the edge of her bed and pressed a kiss against her no longer sweaty forehead.

“Go ahead, Mija. Take a nap. When you wake up I’ll bring you something to eat, okay?” She said softly. Santana nodded and ran a sleepy hand down her mothers arm before she closed her eyes.

“Love you, Mami...” She said, already half way towards slumber.

“I love you too, baby girl.” Was whispered before her mother stood and walked through her door.

-

Many hours later found Santana up in her bed reading a book she’d found at an estate sale two weeks before. It was called World Mythology and since that was a subject that Santana had been interested in since she was a little girl, she couldn’t resist buying it at the time. She was reading about the Mayans currently, or more specifically their creation myth. It spoke of the time before creation, when there was only the vacant sky and the tranquil sea, as the earth had yet to rise from the oceans. It went on to tell about the creators and how they had gathered together, alone in the universe and on the otherwise empty world, and had decided to bring forth the earth from the sea. Mountains rose, streams flowed down mountains and cypress and pine trees created forests, but it was all still empty of life.

Santana was engrossed in her book, though she felt decidedly sick still, when there was a knock on her door. She looked up from where she had read about the creation of the first animals.

“Mami?” She asked, confused. Her mother had given up knocking on the door today for obvious reasons, so it probably wasn’t her.

“No, your mother is downstairs making you soup. She told me to just come up, may I come in?” It was Rachel on the other side of the door, and Santana frowned, twisting her lips and slipping a bookmark into her book before she set it aside.

“Yea, sure, come in.” She said, and wondered if she still looked like death warmed over. Her door opened and Rachel stepped in and shut it behind her as she stepped forward and stood at the foot of her bed.

“Hello. I must admit, before I came here, I was positive that you didn’t show up to school because of what happened yesterday. And to be honest I was a little angry at you for that. But only because I was rather excited to spend more time with you, even if just in silence while we painted or drew. So, I apologize for that, but onto more grim subjects, how are you feeling? You seemed to be completely fine yesterday, at least as far as your health went, so I was surprised to hear from your mother that you’re sick today.” Rachel said, finally crossing to Santana’s desk to take a seat in her rolling chair.

“I was fine yesterday. I don’t know what happened. I came home and I don’t know, I felt like painting so I did, then I started drawing a gift for Quinn and Britt and by the time I stopped it was really late so I came down to go to sleep feeling exhausted but not sick. But when I woke up this morning everything hurt and I had a pretty horrible headache. I don’t know If I caught something from someone and it only just today started fucking me up, but it was weird.” Santana said, reaching over to her bedside table to grab her third bottle of Gatorade, gulping it down her still dry, raspy, throat. Rachel’s eyes followed her like a hawk, but she mentally shrugged it off and assumed the other girl was just making sure she was okay.

“So if you drew the gift for Bri and Quinn what did you paint?” She asked, looking around the room and smiling when she finally noticed the drawing she’d given the Latina the day before hung up over her bed.

“Oh, actually, something like this, or it was intended to be. But it turned out all wrong. It’s dark and kind of creepy really. I’m not sure where I went wrong with it. I wanted to see how you’d created what you did and paint something more inspired by it than replicating it, but...I don’t know. You can go see it if you like, it’s upstairs in my studio. Here, the key’s right here on my table.” Santana said, watching as Rachel’s smile fell and turned into something far more serious quicker than she thought possible, had it been wrong to make something inspired off of what she’d done? Was she like, pissed at her or something?

“I think I will, yes. I’ll return shortly, Santana.” Rachel said, forced cheer in her voice and a fake smile taking over her lips as she walked over, grabbed the key, and then walked out of the bedroom, closing the door behind her. She heard her feet as she seemed to rush up the stairs, then seconds later, heard her above her in the studio. She waited what felt like five minutes, no longer hearing anything above her but quiet, quick steps. She picked her book and dived back into the Mayan creation myth, looking back up at the ceiling when she’d finished, realizing it had been at least twenty minutes since Rachel had left and she couldn’t hear her at all anymore. She debated it in her mind for about half a second before she got up, steadier on her feet than she thought she’d be as she walked to the door then quietly up the stairs, pushing open the door of her studio and finding Rachel doing something that hadn’t been one of the myriad ideas floating through her head.

“Rachel what the hell!” She yelled as loudly as she’d ever yelled anything, her surprise planting her feet to the wooden floorboards. In front of her, Rachel Berry was watching as Santana’s painting, the one she’d worked hard on, despite her confusion and disappointment in it’s finished state, went up in flames. There were no matches or lighter in her hand, but Santana was too simultaneously pissed and confused to notice, stalking closer as Rachel’s eyes flicked over to hers for just a second, never taking her eyes off of the painting in front of her until it was just the wooden frame of the canvas left, charred but no longer burning. She looked over at Santana finally, appearing resigned to something, her arms crossed in front of.

“Mija!” Her mother said, just turning up behind her and locking eyes to hers, then flicking them over at Rachel, who only nodded. Her mother let out a heavy exhale, pressing her hands against her head, palms pressed against her eyes.

“What, Mami?! Do you see what she just did? I spent hours on that yesterday. And those canvases aren’t cheap!” She yelled, becoming even more angry at her mother’s sigh.

“It was making you sick, Santana. It could have killed you if not for you mother. You need to be very very careful with omens. They can and will kill you if you do something wrong.” Santana’s brows furrowed tightly over her eyes and she scoffed in disbelief.

“Are you fucking high right now Berry?!” Rachel rolled her eyes and Santana’s mother put a hand on her arm to calm her but she backed up, slapping it away.

“No, I am not. But you should have waited until today to do this. I told you I’d show you how. I would have taught you something safe, like the one I gave you, the protection Omen. Not that there aren’t plenty in your home already courtesy of your mother, but still.” Rachel said, sounding too put together and intelligent for Santana to deal with right now.

“Mami what the fuck is she talking about?”

“She talking about the collection of patterns, magical fractals, and rune symbols that create an omen. The one you created inadvertently was making you sick because that is it’s purpose. I’m not sure what you may have done to make it target only you and not me, I didn’t see it. Dammit I should have known that was what it was. No one knows we exist, they wouldn’t have targeted you if they did anyway.” Rachel nodded in agreement, loosing the not so much high and mighty but certainly educator like tone to her voice and stance to her body when she spoke again.

“Listen, Santana. And please try to take this as seriously as you can. These ‘Omens’ that we are talking about are magical tools that can be used in many ways. Like to protect, heal, hide, and so on. However they can also be used to nefarious ends. Such as killing people. Yours, for example, held elements of the poison, disease, and even the plague omen. All of which are designed to kill either a single person or a large group of people in it’s vicinity. You may be confused by me using that word. Magic. But it is what these are, and the only reason this one worked and made you so sick is because you carry the magic within you that can activate it.” 

Santana wanted to laugh and cry and just sleep this whole nightmare off but she knew it was real, somehow. The same way she’d somehow known the symbols she’d painted without knowing what they would do.

“What am I...some kind of like...mage or wizard or something?” Both of the women in front of her just shook their heads.

“No, Mija, it is far more complex than that.”

“Meaning what?” She almost wished she hadn’t of asked. The answer would be. ‘ yeah, no we were totally just playing a prank on you, sorry’. No matter how much she wished it would be.

“Meaning Santana, that you are a Witch.”


End file.
